


Tied Together

by KittyAttack



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Bay over Bae? Just go way back and fix it then, F/F, Fix It Fic, I still have bad feelings about how this game ended, I'm bad at tags, amberprice, but w/e, by Monarchy just fyi, everyone deserved m o r e, fuck Jefferson like damn, rated t because Chloe can't be PG, song is Travelling by Ambulance, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-01 22:46:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17252831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittyAttack/pseuds/KittyAttack
Summary: We're tied together, traveling by ambulance. You arrest my heart, but I knew this from the start. Rachel Amber deserves far better than to be OD'd by Nathan Prescott. Chloe deserves far more than to be shot and killed in a girl's bathroom in a school she doesn't even attend. Maxine Caulfield makes it happen.





	Tied Together

Three. 

 

Three is the number of people currently in her house. Three is the number of empty beer bottles on her floor, scattered like lost thoughts. Three is the number of times she’s dyed her hair because blue fades quickly but she loves the color on her. 

 

Three is the number of days Rachel Amber has been missing.

 

Three is the number of times Chloe has woken up in the morning and panic spike and her heartbreak. 

 

Chloe stomps up the stairs, slamming her down shut to block out David’s empty promises and her mom’s broken reassurances. A figurine on her shelf wobbles, threatens to fall and shatter at the sudden violence, but ultimately stays, straightening out and falling still. She snatches the fat blue marker off of her desk and angrily slashes another line on her wall, three in total to mark the days Chloe has spent searching for Rachel Amber. Searching for Rachel Amber, though, is a lot harder than originally expected. Until today, she had been entirely on her own; Rachel was never secretive about her plans to run away so it was assumed that she had. Even Rachel’s parents believed that had ran off, looking thoroughly shocked when Chloe shocked up on their doorstep early on day two. Chloe knows differently. Rachel would have brought Chloe with her or at the very least she would have said something. Wouldn’t she?

 

It’s late afternoon on day three when Chloe caps her marker, chucks it back at her desk, and flops heavily on her bed. She just wants to close her eyes, to sleep, to  _forget_ , but the crinkling noise her bed makes when she lands distracts her because her room might be a disaster but somehow, she prevents her bed from being the same. She lifts the leg the  _whatever_  is under, toeing it up until she can reach it with a hand and only when her fingers close over it does she realize it’s an envelope. As she pulls it closer to her face to read it, she idly thinks of how much shit she’s going to give her mom for entering her room without permission again. 

 

The script across the letter is sloppy, vaguely familiar in a way that tickles the back of her subconsciousness. It’s addressed to her, which is why she assumes it’s on her bed but her door has ‘do not enter’ slathered across it for a reason. She ignored the familiarity in favor of tearing open the envelope, pulling out the white sheet that looks like it’s seen better days. Red is smeared across certain places and the writing looks written by a hand in danger of being chopped off; it takes Chloe a minute to read even her name scribbled at the top. 

 

_Chloe,_

 

No formality at all, it seems. Chloe is ready to rip up and disregard the letter entirely when she glances at the next lines and the blood in her veins turns to ice. 

 

_Rachel Amber is in terrible danger. If you don’t save her now, she will die._

 

She can’t breathe. Part of her realizes how likely it is that the letter is a hoax because if someone knew Rachel was in horrible danger, why not tell the cops? She doesn’t have a choice; if she goes and it’s a hoax there’s no harm done but if she  _doesn’t_  go and it’s  _not_  a hoax. She quickly flips back to the envelope, staring at the return address. Seattle. There’s only one person Chloe knows in Seattle, but why would Max know about Rachel being missing? She flips back to the note. Upon a second inspection, the letter is less a letter and more of a fragmented information outlet. There’s an address scrawled halfway down the page, red (is that  _blood_?) splattered and hardened in no particular pattern. She’ll have to look it up later. 

 

_You need to make sure the cops are with you. If you don’t, you’ll both die and everything I’ve given up with be for nothing. Don’t try to go alone because you think you can handle it and save the day yourself. You can’t. Please._

 

Fine, she’ll get the damn cops but how is she going to convince them to raid whatever is at the location she’s been given?

 

_Figure it out. You always do._

 

It’s almost like Max knew she would question it. Chloe scowls, fingers tightening on the edges of the paper she’s holding. She wants to  _go_ , race to the address and save the person who once saved her. But even she knows that’s a bad idea if she’s dealing with a kidnapper and what, a murderer?

 

_I need you to trust me, Chloe. Rachel, Arcadia Bay, your mom, they’re all in trouble if you don’t. And I know you must be burning with questions_

 

She is, most definitely. 

 

_and if you wait until October 2013, I promise to tell you everything I can. Until then, please._

 

She sighs heavily, removing her beanie to scratch at the top of head before harshly tugging it back on. The letter cuts off in writing that’s entirely illegible, even when Chloe squints and tilts the paper this way and that. The only thing she can make out is a name, Nathan, which she can only assume to be Nathan Prescott. The few scribbles before it could be ‘help’ or ‘hurt’ or ‘use’, but she can’t really tell. 

 

_I hope this doesn’t get to you too late._

 

The ice chills her veins again, fingers going numb with the thought of her getting to Rachel too late. Sudden adrenaline chases the ice away, turns her blood to fire and she snatches her keys from where she threw them haphazardly on her desk, throwing her window open and crawling out it as fast as she can. She lands on the ground with a soft thump, the feeling resonating in her feet and legs because it’s something she’s well accustomed to at this point. A few long strides later and she’s in her truck, throwing it in reverse and flooring it to the address. 

 

_Be careful, Chloe._

_Your partner in crime,_

_Max Caulfield._

 

~~~~~

 

It drains almost all of the already low battery she has on her phone but she makes it to a barn that looks like it hasn’t been used in decades. Chloe hops out of her truck, taking care to shut her door gently enough though her truck sounds like a hoard of stampeding rhinos. A glance around the barn shows her that the front door is padlocked but there’s a loose paneling on the side that she slips past, crouching low as she inspects the inside of the barn. There isn’t much in it, some old farm equipment scattered around, hay coating the ground. It’s because there isn’t much that it doesn’t take long for Chloe to find what she’s looking for; her boot scuffs the metal of the bunker door and she recoils at the sudden loud noise, taking off and narrowly missing ripping her shirt on the hole in the wall when she runs outside, phone already open and dialing nine-one-one. 

 

She has to think fast, for some way to get the cops out here fast and for her reason to be here. The call connects as she ducks behind her truck, thankfully parked in the foliage behind the barn to stay out of sight. The operator greets her and she digs her fingers into her jacket, hoping whoever is in the bunker didn’t hear her boot and come looking for her. 

 

“Please, I need help,” she starts, rattling off the address Max gave her. “I think I just witnessed a kidnapping. There was a man and two teenagers. The girl was half naked and blindfolded and the boy was being held at gunpoint,” she lies. Maybe she should have joined the drama club. She almost believes herself. “I think - I think the boy was Nathan Prescott.” Max mentioned a Nathan (maybe) so she figures it can’t hurt to drop his name. The Prescotts  _own_  the police. “I think they need an ambulance.” Her voice shakes because she’s scared and it’s not really an act. Rachel is down there, if her information is correct, as well as a murderer. How could she be not afraid? “Please, I don’t know what’s going to happen to them.”

 

The operator launches into a speech about remaining calm, help is on the way, and that’s when her phone dies, screen fading to black. It strikes her suddenly that she’s alone with no phone and a killer under her feet. She has to fight down the rising panic, turning her thoughts to a reason for why she’s here, of all places, in the middle of the day. Could she have asked David to help her, to convince him to help and have him take care of it? Wouldn’t that be easier? Absolutely. Would she ever? Absolutely not. So, she’s stuck on her own.

 

It’s not as hard as she previously thought to think of a good back up plan. Why would a troubled teen be out here in the middle of nowhere? She creaks her door open slowly, patting under her seat until her fingers brush the baggie of pre-mades and she pulls it out, grabbing one and tucking the rest back in. Chloe lights the joint with surprising efficiency considering her hands won’t stop shaking. Inhale. Hold. Exhale. She only takes one hit, snuffing it out on her boot and tucking it under her fold down mirror. She has an answer if the question of why she’s here springs up. Now all she can do is wait. 

 

The sound of incoming cars reaches her in half the time it took her to get here. She’s not surprised, considering she threw in Nathan’s name as a possible victim. Three cop cars and an ambulance pull up in front of her; she’s so thankful their sirens aren’t blaring right now. A middle-aged cop steps out first, striding over to her and she has to resist the usual show of defiance she presents to authorities. 

 

“Are you the one who called about the kidnapping?” She nods her head, gesturing to the barn. 

 

“He locked the door behind him, but I watched him go underground from a loose paneling over there.” She gestures again, curling her toes. Time wasted with information is time wasted saving Rachel. Sweat pools in the small of her back. “There’s a paneling in the floor in the barn. They’re down there.”

 

The officer nods, signaling to the five others behind him, and unholsters his gun. One makes his way to the padlock, falling to his knees and pulling out what might be a lock-picking kit. She’d be surprised if it wasn’t because the padlock falls a few moments later and the officers converge on the paneling on the floor, easy to see with Chloe’s boot scattering the hay that covered it. Chloe watches from afar, as close as she can stand without being shooed back, and the next lock is picked and the officers descend one by one. There’s silence for a ridiculous amount of time, in her opinion, which leads to stilted breaths and she really wants to take another hit. More silence, then suddenly there’s a flurry of sound and Chloe jumps backwards, struggling but failing to make out what’s being said and Rachel  _must_  be down there and she wants to run forward and reach her but there’s paramedics rushing past her after a crackling on their radios and she can’t move or breathe. She retreats another step and the overlying fear of  _run_ overwhelms her but she  _can’t_ , that’s Rachel down there. She waits. And waits, waits, waits until the paramedics pop back over the stairs carrying a stretcher she didn’t even see them bring in the first place. On the stretcher is the one face she could never forget; Rachel Amber, her angel, a sheet laying over her and tied down. Chloe shouts her name, finally moving, hovering close to the stretcher until she’s pushed away by one of the cops. How  _dare_ they? Chloe snarls, spits as they load her in and she breaks off, running to the ambulance and it’s the first cop who stops her this time. 

 

“She needs to go to the hospital. You can’t go in.”

 

“Bullshit! I need to!”

 

“Ma’am, I can’t allow you to be a distraction - “

 

“I fucking love her! Let me in or  _so help me god!_ ”

 

The officer caves, gesturing her in, and she doesn’t hesitate to leap up and in and situation herself in an empty corner where she can still grab onto Rachel’s (cold cold too cold) hand. Her heart breaks. She knows they’ve been fighting, Rachel has been so  _distant_  in the past weeks but that doesn’t make Chloe’s love for her any less real. She’s so  _pale_. Chloe can’t stop the sob from bursting from her just like she can’t stop her heart from collapsing through her chest. God, it feels like she’s  _dying_. Like they’re tied by a string and whatever Rachel is suffering from, Chloe is too. She can’t see the machines they’re hooking up to Rachel, tunnel vision overtaking her and all she can see, feel, hear is Rachel, Rachel, Rachel. 

 

_Please no_. 

 

Sirens kick on and the ambulance jolts into drive. Chloe shifts with it, unfeeling to anything but the pressure of her hand connected to Rachel’s. How did this happen? How did their lives get so out of control? A month ago, they were happy and carefree and so  _in love_  and now they’re in the back of an ambulance. Can’t they go back?

 

_I don’t want to be alone, please Rachel, I’ll do anything._  

 

There’s a memory lingering at the front of her subconscious, a time they went to the beach together at night and their paths were light by the stars. Chloe asked to use her lighter to light there way and Rachel had refused, ‘ _do you trust me_?’ And of course she did. She still does; the smile on Rachel’s face is so blinding that she can’t imagine any other way to live. 

 

Rachel’s heartbeat skips, slows, stops and Chloe screams, inside and out. 

 

“Bring her back! You assholes, bring her back or you better kill me too!” Moments later and her heartbeat is stable again but she still hasn’t moved and Chloe clutches harder, ignores the tears leaking down her face and splattering on the floor. 

 

_Please come back. Trade me places. I’ll die for you._

 

There’s a rinse and repeat two more times on the way to the hospital and then Chloe finds herself standing in a quiet lobby, staring down a hallway without recollection of how she gets there. She stands for hours, time falling apart in her muddled mind, until a doctor finally, fucking finally, exits the hallway. 

 

“Ms. Price?” She drags her tired eyes to him, staring at him until he realizes she isn’t going to talk. “Your friend, Ms. Amber, is going to be okay. She was drugged, heavily, but she’s recovering now. If you had waited any longer, I can’t say I’d be saying the same thing.”

 

She owes Max, so fucking much, is what she hears. Max, who isn’t even around, just saved the love of her life. She’s so  _tired_. 

 

“Can I see her?” She croaks, voiced stale and hoarse after being silent for so long. 

 

“Not yet, I’m afraid. Family only at this point.”

 

“ _Please_ , doctor. She’s the only family I have  _left_.” The doctor hesitates, looking for something and he sighs, nodding tightly and gesturing her to follow him. “ _Thank you._ ” There’s a series of hallways she’s led down, finally stopping in front of a door just like any other, a small nameplate with A. Rachel on it. He pats her on the shoulder and vanished and Chloe is left with a closed door and broken motivation. But she pushes the door open anyways, slowly tiptoeing in like Rachel is just sleeping and she doesn’t want to wake her. There’s a steady beeping and Chloe creeps closer, sagging into the chair next to the bed, leaning her head down on the bed and once again tightening her hand around Rachel. She isn’t as pale but she still looks bad and Chloe can’t stand to look at her right now. But the steady beeping is comforting. It means Rachel is alive, stable, and Chloe can’t really ask for anything else. 

 

_Thank you, Max._

**Author's Note:**

> I originally had another chapter planned for an afterwards, so to speak, of Rachel recovering and them fucking t a l k i n g about Frank and Jefferson and shit and now I'm not sure if I should haha. Song is Travelling by Ambulance by Monarchy because I have FEELINGS ABOUT RACHEL DYING AND CHLOE REACTING OKAY. Happy New Year ya'll.


End file.
